The Ledge is Appealing
by ilovetomhiddleston
Summary: Molly Hooper is feeling suicidal. Will Sherlock be able to talk her out if it after being a main factor in her sudden and very permanent decision?
1. Why so mean?

"Are those new shoes?" Sherlock murmured, pausing from his work to peer down at my new moccasins.

"Uh, y-yes," I grinned from ear to ear and felt my face blush. Somehow, he stole my breath every time. How could I let myself be so stupid around him? And you'd think being the world's most famous detective, he'd get the hint by now. Instead, he's left me stuttering and blushing at the intensity of his ever changing eyes.

"Hmm. You should've kept the ratty sneakers. These make your feet look too wide."

Every time. Every single time. I always told myself that tomorrow, yes, tomorrow he'd have a change of heart. I began to tear up in the slightest, but I was so used to the cruelty that by now, it simply daily conversation.

"Closing," John called from the hallway. "Put down the tools, Sherlock. We're not playing this little game again."

"Five more minutes," Sherlock replied. His curly headed body was slumped over a candy wrapper for a complicated case I could hardly follow.

"No! We do this every night!" John hurried in lugging a duffel bag. "I got the stuff."

"Give it to me."

"Nope, we're leaving. Right this instant."

"Watson," Sherlock growled, his jaw setting angrily and his nostrils flaring.

"Holmes."

"Watson."

"Holmes."

"Wats-"

"Just leave!" I finally burst, giggling a bit. John smiled at me before taking Sherlock by the coat collar and hauling him to his feet. "See you tomorrow!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Maybe not," I whispered, hardly audible below my breath.

Because tonight was the night I had been planning for weeks. Tonight was the night I would die.

Hope you enjoyed:) More to come. I cherish every review I get :D


	2. The Day Winds Down

Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback! xoxox

I packed up my belongings, taking my time. It was dark; John had hit the light switch on his way out, almost like he'd forgotten I was still in the room. The day had seemed so fast. In no way had I anticipated my last day on earth to go like it had. I'd set up the entire day with all the things I wanted to see before I jumped. My best friend Laurie, the park I often wandered through after work, maybe buying the homeless people by the 7-11 lunch again. I had befriended the unfortunate. It's not like they had wished their misfortune on themselves. They were simply people who had gone through too much and often just needed a hot sandwich and warm tea. My day went down the drain when I got a text from Sherlock, demanding my immediate presence. Being helpless to my love, I pulled on my lab coat and drove to the hospital without a second thought. I had hoped that God would grant me a compliment or something, anything, from Sherlock. I was suicidal and the greatest detective on earth couldn't even tell.

With a swift motion, I tossed my bag over my shoulder and waved goodbye to the hospital. It had served me well, but nothing could've changed my mind. The ledge was much too appealing.

(TrAnSiTiOn) (Sherlock's POV)

"Did Molly seem a little off to you?" John asked, eyebrow puckered in thought. He squinted like he did when he was over-thinking. I groaned with recognization at the familiar expression.

"No," was my instant response, but now that I thought about it, something was certainly missing from her usual persona. Her hair was unusual. She typically did it up, you could tell by the intense whiff of hair spray that tended to smack you in the face when you walked in the room. Also, she hadn't worn a dash of makeup, and I'd never seen her without it. Surely she was pretty without it, but it was definitely strange to see her not care about her appearance. "Well, yes."

"I knew it!" John cried. The taxicab faltered as we plowed through a pothole.

"Hmm..." I tuned John's ever heightening voice out and sunk into thought. Hair undone, no makeup...wait, there was makeup. Not on her face. I had noticed it when she yanked up her sleeves to test the iodine with the unknown chemical, thinking nothing of the indents in her arms. Sloppily, she had thrown foundation over the marks in attempt to cover the scars. I had, clueless, brushed if off. Molly was the clumsiest person I'd ever met. She'd probably fallen and scraped herself up. She had also been very unfocused, like she had suddenly lost interest in everything. I heard a moan by my side.

"Um, you're going to have to drive a few more blocks..." I heard John stutter, though I could hardly hear over the alarming beam of my thinking. "Yeah, he's fine. He's just in his 'Mind Palace'. I wouldn't ask if I were you."

Nothing was making sense. While she wasn't the happiest person, in no way was she ever lagging with sadness. There was always a pep in her step and hope in her eyes. I suddenly realized how pretty her eyes were. Typically, they shone with something that somewhat disgusted me - love. The putrid thing; why would someone _willingly _hand someone else their heart, and be surprised when they shatter it? I've learned to trust no one in this dark and grueling world.

"Sherlock, we're at Baker Street," John noted, nudging me. I nodded and jumped out of the cab, letting John take the bill. I was much too wrapped up in my thoughts to speak to anyone. Without waiting for my companion, I leapt up the steps and unlocked the door to the flat.

"Sherlock!"

There was no way I could've spoken to Ms. Hudson. Something was so wrong and I couldn't place it. Stupid me. I made a dash for my room before she could offer me a cup of tea.

A blade I had used the day before was lying idly on my bedside table. It caught my eye and for some reason, my gaze remained fixed on the object. Suddenly, everything clicked together. That's my favorite part about being a detective; the moment when everything makes sense and you know exactly what to do. It's prideful and joyous. The word shot loudly from my mouth. I was just as surprised as John when I heard it aloud.

"Suicide!" my stomach dropped. "We have to get back there, right this instant!"


	3. London Won't Stop for Me

Thanks so much for all of the feedback! I'm taking all of the constructive criticism to improve my work:)

*Molly's POV*

I had figured the best place to jump was the roof of the hospital. It was quick, easy, and very personal. Of course there were other options to, uh... ending it all. I had weighed each alternative carefully. A bullet would do the trick, but I'd never have the courage to put a gun to my head. Poison could work, and with Sherlock constantly in the lab, it'd be easy to get my hands around some. Jumping however, was the best solution. I wanted it to be fast. As soon as I hit the concrete, most likely I'd be gone. How ironic. To be surrounded by the dead for so long, and to suddenly be one.

Was I ready for this? Not at all. I just wanted a way out. So much absolute crap had occured lately, and I wasn't strong enough to handle it. Little weak Molly. I was never one to be strong; I always crumpled under my problems. My dad had died. I was so close to the man, without him, I was lost. It was awhile ago, but the memories still sprung fresh tears to my eyes. Also, the Jim thing. It was quite a shock to find out your somewhat ex-boyfriend attempted to blow up your employers. It left me in a state for a long time. We were getting along nicely, too. It's like finding out that your old friend from middle school robbed a bank or something. Oh, and who could forget Celia. My friend since primary school. A few months back I'd been dating this really incredible guy. He was perfect, almost too perfect. I was convinced we were to be together forever. After three months of lunching and some late night clubbing downtown, I walked in on it all. Celia, my best friend from the start, effectively ending another of my relationships. Coupled with other minor things, suicide seemed like a haven to me.

And there was Sherlock, of course.

I'd been in love with the man from first glance. Obviously, he was beyond handsome. His eyes... enough said. They changed color day to day. The man was like no other. Brilliant was the only genuine word for the guy. When he was being kind, he was such an unbelievable man. A day hasn't gone by where he hasn't blown me away. My hopeless love for him made everyday a struggle. It wasn't a crush. It was love. Love was the epitome of all things evil. Because when you love someone who doesn't love you back, you've basically signed yourself up for a free torture session each day, all over someone you love and hate at the same time. Love isn't something you can help. Trust me on that. If there was a way I could stop loving Sherlock, I'd be moving on right away. That's why I go through so many boyfriends. I can never have the same feelings for them as I do for Sherlock. It's unfair.

My life was a train wreck. I had hardly any friends, and the few I had, I wasn't close to at all. They were just friendly people you watched movies with and texted occasionally. Everyone in this world needs a friend. I have no clue how Sherlock managed to function for so long without any. In a way, I was jealous of John. He was the only person Sherlock ever let in. Sherlock cracked his shell open just enough for John to squeeze in, then he shut it up and locked it immediately.

My mind was elsewhere as I stumbled up the uneven steps to the rooftop. I'd only been up there once before. I was terrified of heights, but I guess I was putting myself through the pain. Like I deserved to die. With a deep breath, I placed my hands on the door knob, surprised I hadn't lost it in tears yet. The door eased open and suddenly, everything became very real. The city was sharp around me. Buildings struck the sky and cars traced the roads. London wouldn't stop for me. It would continue swirling through, hour by hour. I'd be just another dead girl in the papers or on the news. A family at a dinner table will see my face, have a sense of pity for the poor, poor ugly girl on their screen for five minutes, flip to another channel and forget of my very existence. And that was life.

*tRaNsItIoN* *Sherlock's POV*

"Can you go any faster?!" I shouted at the flustered cab driver, cursing below my breath. He nodded and stomped on the pedal with the urgency I needed.

"Are you alright? You're usually oddly calm in these kinds of situations. You're kind of scaring me..." John was cowering on the other side of the cab. It almost made me laugh.

"Molly is going to kill herself. Everything adds up. Why are _you _so calm?!"

"I'm trying not to freak out, okay? We'll be there any minute. Do you know what she plans on doing?"

"She's going to jump off a building, probably the hospital. Molly's afraid of guns and refuses to even touch them. She told me once she couldn't swallow pills and had to opt for medicine, so she wouldn't take a pill. Maybe some form of liquid poison, but I doubt it. Today she wore sneakers, which was strange. Possibly for the long walk to the roof top. Also, she wore a large coat, hat, scarf, and gloves for the cold, when typically she just wears that old sweatshirt. Outdoors... Without a doubt she's going to jump."

John recovered from his expression of amazement, which he wore every time I solved a case. It pleased me.

The cab abruptly paused by the entrance to St. Bartholomew's, but I didn't wait for the complete stop before launching myself out of the car. I burst through the double doors and flew through the halls. The elevator was slow, but much faster than the stairs. I pounded the 'UP' button and by the time it's doors parted, John had caught up with me. He muttered about me owing him taxi money. I didn't hear it over the ringing of my head. Why was I suddenly so concerned about Molly?

There was another flight of stairs to the rooftop, but it was only a problem for John, who was wheezing slowly behind me.

"Slow...down..." he begged, his breath catching in his throat and his voice faltering. I continued plowing through each step until I reached the open door. Good thing she hadn't thought to lock it or place something heavy against it from the outside. It's what I would've done. Maybe she was hoping someone would find her. Maybe she still had hope.

That's when I knew that Molly didn't want to kill herself. Not a piece of her wanted to die. But something was urging her forward, dragging her toes to the ledge...

"Molly!" my voice echoed against each rough building surrounding us. She finally caught my eye, and relief overtook me. John was still frantically searching behind me, but I didn't stop him. My only alarm was with the girl sitting dangerously on the edge, her feet dangling below her in the wind.

"Molly, dear..." a tear sprouted from my eye. I was so off guard. Crying was not something I did. Sherlock Holmes didn't cry. Another tear followed. What was happening to me?

"Sherlock," she murmured, peering up at me through her long lashes. At least I wasn't alone. Tears were streaming down her face. Silent tears. They were the worst kind.

"Molly what... what are you doing? Please, step away. Talk with me down stairs," I beseeched. Her gaze turned to the sidewalk. Her back stiffened and a chill rocketed through her spine. Molly was afraid of the fall, terrified even.

"I want to die."

"No, you don't." I replied matter-of-factly.

"Shut up!" she screeched. I stumbled backwards, so unbelievably astounded. Molly Hooper had never raised her voice for the length of time I had known her. Molly Hooper did not get angry. "You don't know my life!"

John hurried to my side. "Sherlock," he hissed, "let me handle this, _please._"

"I can do this."

"No, I don't think you can! Sherlock, you can't be apologetic and kind. You're not the type of person who can lure someone from a ledge. In fact, you'd be the one to push them over."

Taken aback yet again, I glared at my supposed friend. "How dare you say that! I can be kind!"

"Only when you're not being yourself!"

"I'm still here," Molly impatiently reminded us. I crouched by her side.

"Please, Molly. I'll do anything for you to just swing your legs over and chat with me."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"How about you come to me, then?" with an unkind smile, she patted the cement to her left.

I went pale. But I'd known Molly for so long, I couldn't willingly stand there and let her die. After breathing slowly, I carefully seated myself along the edge beside her. The concrete below whirled closer. "Please, Molly..."

"Why can't you just let me die in peace? Leave. Now. I don't count to anybody. No one will care."

"I care," I offered with the nicest smile I could conjure. "You're absolutely brilliant, Molly, do you know that? Without you, I wouldn't have solved a single case. You're practically the Robin to my Batman," I added with a nervous chuckle. John began to protest but I silenced him with a wave. "You do count, Molly. You've always counted, and I've always trusted you."

"But you can't love me."

I didn't know what to say. For once in my life, the words were lost.

"You can't fix every mistake I've made. You can't bring my father back to life. You can't find me a good friend or two. You can't change my life. And you certainly can't force yourself to love me."

The words wouldn't come. I tried to speak, but couldn't summon a sound.

Time wasn't of the essence, and every second, she grew closer to the ledge.


	4. It's Time

I'm thinking of writing two alternate endings! Let me know what you think xxx

***********MOLLY'S POV************

Why was Sherlock trying so hard? Since when did he care about me? I decided to voice my confusion.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, exasperated.

"What?" he was taken aback.

"You know what I mean. No man could be so cruel and not feel bad about it all."

"...Cruel?" his tone dropped and another tear escaped his eye. I'd never seen Sherlock cry before. It was quite humanizing.

"I can't tell you the countless times you've humiliated me and made me feel... just horrible about myself. And all I ever did was love you."

He was dangerously pale. Would he pass out?

"I'm... I'm sorry Molly. You know how I am."

"That's no excuse! No one is born like that. No one is born with the intention of hurting people. You don't have a conscience, Sherlock. You're the last person I want to save me," and it was true. But if he wasn't the one to save me, no one would. I wasn't ready to face the fact that Sherlock and John were really the only close people I had.

"Yes, she's about to jump," I heard a hushed voice from behind me, struggling to whisper into a receiver. Stunned and hurt, with a sharp twist, I glared at John with a dropped jaw. "John?! Are you calling the police to come get me?!"

"W-what? No, this is... uh, this is Mycroft. Mycroft says hi," John stuttered, turning on his heel and murmuring with urgency into the cruddy cell phone.

It was now or never. If I didn't jump now, the police would show up and lure me down. My eyes followed the people stirring below me and I loosened my grip. It was time.

Short chapter... I know... but more is coming super super soon!


	5. Alternate Ending 1

SOOOOOOOOOOOOO I tried the alternate ending thing and liked it a lot. You can choose which one you'd prefer was the ending to the story. Before you read either, let me warn you; THE OTHER ENDING IS MUCH HAPPIER. ENJOY xoxo

Sherlock understood and became frantic.

"Please, Molly!" Sherlock was screaming now. A tortured expression crossed his eyes as he grew desperate. "Anything! I'll do anything! I know what it feels like, I've been in your shoes! I beg of you, please STEP BACK FROM THE LEDGE!"

"Nothing is going to change my mind," I told him simply. It was a blatant lie. I wanted to live more than anything, but at the same time to never have been born. It was easier to end my life than to work out every situation that caused me this horrible hollowness in me. I felt constantly empty and drained. Getting through the day was a struggle. No depressant medicine, no therapist or doctor, nothing was capable of curing me. So I was prepared to cure myself.

Something changed on Sherlock's face. Defeat? I'd never seen him give up. It wasn't something he was ever ready to do. Sherlock was always one to prove people wrong. Never had I seen him show a weak side.

"Then you're taking me with you."

I peered up through my tears. They ran with ferocity down my cheeks as my suicide suddenly dawned on me. Shakily, Sherlock scooted closer to my side and grasped my hand in his. "I'm not going to let you die by yourself. How could I live with myself?"

"You're... you're going to jump with me? But why?"

"Because you matter Molly. I couldn't live without you."

A fierce sob tore through my throat. A part of me wanted to believe him, but the other half knew his words were only white lies trying to drag me to my fight. I rested my head on his shoulder and cried for a long while. Nothing could stop the flow of my troubles easing out of my eyes. Crying was something I did often. It was my way of dealing, if you will. Though it did nothing to help or harm me.

"Are you sure about this?" Sherlock whispered in my ear. His voice was tender and he placed a gentle hand on my head, soothing me with deep breaths. I continued sobbing in his shoulder but managed to shake my head.

"No," I admitted.

Sherlock nodded knowingly. "But you still want to do this."

"Yes."

We sat in silence for another few minutes, letting the wind swirl around us and the melody of the city string us closer together. John was pacing behind us, oblivious to Sherlock's fatal decision. He was probably awaiting the police. It would be any minute now before they arrived.

"Let's do it now, before I change my mind," I commanded. Sherlock's tears were running as fast as mine down his unique cheek bones. "One more thing, though..." While my courage was still strong, I took Sherlock's face in my hands and lost myself in his eyes. Today they were a brilliant green. He sniffled but didn't push me away. Gingerly, I leaned closer and closer until my lips touched his. It was gentle and romantic. It was what I'd always dreamed it to be.

"Now," Sherlock murmured, and we both braced ourselves. He kicked off with his toe and we were flying. It was a glorious feeling. London _did_ stop for us. Every car slammed its brakes. Every light flicked on. Every pedestrian dropped their bags and turned to look at the two freaks laughing their way to their deaths. I thought of my dad, and how I'd be joining him soon. I thought of Laurie, and how this would stun her, but she'd recover after time. I thought of Sherlock and how much I loved him, even when entering the afterlife. I thought of our perfect kiss. I thought of what would come. I embraced death.

It was quick and easy. I was dead by the time I met the cement.

*****John's POV*******

Nothing was scarier than seeing Sherlock hitting the concrete for the second time. It was as though my absolute worst nightmare was chasing me once again. After I'd just gotten over the horror of the first 'suicide' he'd faked, to jump off another building right away... I honestly believed that he wasn't dead. He had to have faked it again; he'd done it before. Whether he's currently still alive or not, his carcass had no pulse, and his bloodied body was the most terrible thing I have and will ever witness. His funeral consisted of Ms. Hudson, Lestrade, and me. Molly's had a couple more visitors, but not many. It was so... I have no words. Sherlock and I had a funny relationship. One that I guarantee I'll never have with anyone else.

His death brought me to alcohol, and I was soon attending regular A.A. meetings. I dealt with my troubles much like Molly did; by crumbling beneath them.

The legacy of Sherlock Holmes will never die. I'm proud to say I was his friend.

Molly on the other hand, I haven't even ventured into beginning to deal with her loss. The suicide was such a shock... I'm focusing on one crisis at a time. My therapist is due in ten minutes, so I should probably wrap this up.

R.I.P Sherlock and Molly


	6. Alternate Ending 2

*************ALTERNATE ENDING 2***************

Sherlock understood and became frantic.

"Please, Molly!" Sherlock was screaming now. A tortured expression crossed his eyes as he grew desperate. "Anything! I'll do anything! I know what it feels like, I've been in your shoes! I beg of you, please STEP BACK FROM THE LEDGE!"

"Nothing is going to change my mind," I told him simply. It was a blatant lie. I wanted to live more than anything, but at the same time to never have been born. It was easier to end my life than to work out every situation that caused me this horrible hollowness in me. I felt constantly empty and drained. Getting through the day was a struggle. No depressant medicine, no therapist or doctor, nothing was capable of curing me. So I was prepared to cure myself.

"NO! I REFUSE TO LET THIS HAPPEN!" he launched himself at me, throwing me carelessly over and leaving me toppling on the rooftop.

Rage simmered under my skin. The anger boiled. "You can't keep me from doing this! It's not your choice to make!" Army crawling, I made my way once again to the edge. This time John was the one to grasp my leg.

"Come now, Molly. Please step back."

I nearly threw myself over if it wasn't for the petite man clinging to my leg. If I died, no way would I let sweet little John go down with me. I managed to shake him off, which was a pretty big deal him being in the army and all (even if he _was_ only a doctor). My nails traced the ragged outline of the building. Three... death would come easy. Two... death would come quick. I swung my legs over the side and released my grip. One...

"NOW!" Sherlock cried into the open air. At first, I didn't understand. Sherlock threw his arms over my body and pulled me back once more, just as a rally of policemen stormed onto the rooftop. A light rain began to mist. I picked out Lestrade with his tweed jacket among the armed cops.

"Ma'am, can we please settle this away from the ledge," a young man stepped forward and bowed politely. He was my age, possibly younger, and very handsome. He seemed warm; genuine even. I wanted to get to know the lad.

This part is somewhat a blur to look back on. I remember giving in and letting the man throw a blanket over me and haul me to the lobby. They spoke to me but I didn't absorb a word. I didn't know what to feel.

I was on suicide watch for three months and fourteen days before being released. My lovely police boyfriend Alex was there to discharge me. We've been going steady ever since he towed me from my near death on the roof. Charming, kind... not Sherlock. But I've learned to move on as much as I could. Our baby is due in May. A surprise but also a blessing.

Suicide would've ended this beautiful world around me. I have no one to thank but Sherlock. Sure, he may have been a big reason why my life was hanging by a thread I was ready to cut. But he was the one to sew it up again. And for that, I'm thankful.


End file.
